Endless Waltz
by DimWeezer
Summary: Used to be called 'No need for a name'. AlexLara. On their way to discovering the secrets of the Mayas.
1. Cuts in question

**Authors Note:** This is my first time on I find there are very few Alex/ Lara fan fictions on the site, and fewer still which are finished, which is a shame because I really enjoyed such stories as 'The Beginning' and 'The Many Paroxysm's of Alex West'. Any reviews would be greatly appreciated, flames included, though I don't expect any. Chapters will be longer in future. Please be patient- the story will unfold slowly. Thank you.

**Disclaimer:** Tomb Raider and its characters are the property of Simon West, Paramount Pictures and Eidos Interactive. This story is strictly for my own personal pleasure. Any similarities between this story's plot and any others is purely coincidental. No plagiarism intended.

Warning! Rating may go up as my imagination wanders….

Chapter One: Cuts in question.

The bustling lobby of Boothby's Auction House hummed with the chatter of iridescent shapes, moving and shifting in a blur of indefinite images. Alexander West had eyes only for the beautiful sight ascending the stair case. Lara Croft, in her motor cycle leathers and helmet in hand, looked over the top of her sunglasses and groaned inwardly. Quickening her pace, she attempted to brush past the man whose very presence had the infuriating effect of turning her emotions into turmoil.

"Hey, Lara…", turning, Alex tried to get her attention, but she ignored him and hurried off to the next auction where a supposed necklace of one of king Henry VIII's wives was being sold to the highest bidder. Lara waved her left hand behind her as he began to follow, and he noticed the scars on the palm and fingers.

Alex's mind floated back to the day five months ago when Lara had emerged from The Tomb of Ten Thousand Shadows….

Alex heard Lara's laughter long before the sled came into view. Powell's soldiers had left, and Bryce and Pimms waited with varying degrees of impatience in the freezing cold climate of Novaya Zemlya for the tomb raider to appear. Alex had been pacing, waving his hands agitatedly in irate gestures- directed mostly at Powell but some to himself in his mind- and seemingly wordlessly spoke to himself. Snow cracked and flew in the impending sleds wake. Halting roughly, Lara looked over her shoulder at the tomb entrance as an immovable piece of rock fell from the ceiling. Without the key stone, the entire roof splintered and crumbled, caving in on itself. The sound of its collapse was muffled by the snow in an entirely unsatisfactory _thump_. Raising a delicate eyebrow, Lara smiled humourlessly at Alex. Just then, Alex noted the blood dripping from her left arm. It ran in tendrils around her forearm like an intricate red web, though he could see the wounds were actually in the soft flesh of her palm, and maybe her fingers.

"Christ Lara! What were you doing?" when no answer was forthcoming, he haphazardly began to throw miscellaneous items from his rucksack in search of the small tin he knew he would found there. Having located the elusive item, he hunched down in front of Lara where she sat perched on the edge of her sled. He held out his hand and she wordlessly gave him hers. Taking up a handful of snow, he proceeded to clean the wounds which were slowly coagulating. Lara looked at the tin Alex had now opened, which was about six inches square. It contained a variety of things a person could need in virtually any situation. Three small plastic boxes- green, red and blue- were labelled 'first-aid kit', 'burn kit' and 'bandages' respectively. Among other things inside the tin were water proof matches, some string, a beta light and a magnetic compass, and … a condom.

As Alex reached into the tin for the antiseptic spray, he noticed Lara's pointed gaze. "it can hold up to a litre of water", he mumbled shamefacedly as he began to gently bandage her hand. Of course she knew that, but she revelled in the fact that she could so easily make him nervous. Alex had carried that tin around with him everywhere for as long as she has known him. Even back in secondary school, where he had joined her from America. She suddenly remembered the geeky and uncertain boy she had befriended when she was sixteen and smiled genuinely at Alex.

Puzzled by her sudden warmth, Alex decided to take the opportunity to kiss her hand on the knuckles. She merely cocked an eyebrow at him. Then he covered the tin with its lid and re-wrapped the water proof tape around the edges. While this was going on, Bryce had been frantically tapping at his keyboard, hoping it would work despite the fact he knew they were in a dead zone. Seeing that Alex was helping Lara into the storage section of their sled (how the American had convinced her that he should steer he did not know), Bryce packed his now useless hunk of metal away and got on the sled he and Pimms were riding….

Lara had never told Alex how she got the cuts on her hand. He kept having dreams of Powell throwing a knife that pierced him in the chest, of falling into water and his body being crushed by the orrery's gears, and of Lara giving him the breath of life before finally kissing him good bye. Oh! How she would laugh if she found out about them! He would never hear the end of it, and yet… how did Lara get those cuts? How did Powell's knife end up embedded in its owner's shoulder? He was sure it had been intended for him. Maybe his subconscious had created the dreams to fill a gap?

Snapping out of his reverie, Alex quickly got over his musings as he noticed Lara coming back out of the auction room. How long had he been standing there, engrossed in his own thoughts? The middle aged woman at the reception desk had been eyeing him suspiciously, standing in the middle of the lobby, staring unfocused at the ground, metal briefcase in hand. Lara headed towards him….

**Authors Note:** For future reference, Alex has glasses but due to the physical nature of his work with Powell, he had to wear contacts. His glasses are an exact replica of those owned by Rivers Cuomo from Weezer (couldn't resist, I love his glasses). Thank you for reading.

Kai.


	2. Incertitude

**Authors Note:** Alex may seem out of character at first but all will eventually be explained. Hope I don't go too far and make him unbelievable. It will be largely focused on him.

**Disclaimer:** Tomb Raider and its characters are the property of Simon West, Paramount Pictures and Eidos Interactive. This story is strictly for my own personal pleasure. Any similarities between this story's plot and any others is purely coincidental. No plagiarism is intended.

Chapter Two: Incertitude.

Alex's features were stoic as Lara approached. He had refrained from initiating any contact with her after she had icily told him in no uncertain terms that he was a pariah, and was no longer welcome to use the term 'friend' in conjunction with her name. This happened after getting off the chinook just outside Venice. She had cornered him and, knife to his throat, threatened him in a way far more effective then any restraining order. It was a far cry from the almost amicable conversation they had shared on the chinook. He didn't think randomly bumping into her in Boothby's Auction House counted as breaking their agreement, but her pursed lips and tense jaw seemed to indicate otherwise. An analogy came to mind: Achelous, a river god, who changed into a snake and a bull while fighting Hercules, was defeated when Hercules broke off one of his horns. Alex felt like he had been destroyed when Lara broke off all contact with him, ostracized the snake who only caused trouble. Poor Bryce looked troubled at the thought of going home with such an irate Lara.

Alex hadn't smiled in months, nor had he socialized. He knew that this was a bad idea. He had suffered from agoraphobia as a teen and had rarely left his room. Ironic how it was Lara who had helped him over come that fear, and now she had become the slow acting catalyst leading towards a relapse. Lack of desire to leave his flat was the first step. A few more months and it would be full blown. Being an archaeologist, that could be bad for business. Alex knew he should stuck to the research side of the field.

"Alex," Lara was now standing directly in front of him, and he was glad of the height difference. Putting on his never failing arrogant façade, he leaned against the railing and waited for her to continue. "I thought you were on a dig?"

"Trying to avoid me? Lara, I always thought you met your problems head on?", seeing her expression sour further, he quickly changed tact. "Who said I was on a dig?"

"You haven't been seen in awhile. Rumour was you were on an extended dig somewhere in the Mesopotamian region. Shame." She looked around, as if searching for an excuse to end this conversation and escape. Alex shifted so he blocked more of her peripheral view, and surreptitiously clutched the inner lining of his suit pocket.

"So how have you been?" his voiced had dropped an octave, trying to ignore the receptionist still staring at him with an air of contempt. She had obviously decided that he was not here for business purposes and had taken it upon herself to keep an eye on him. Alex felt an almost undeniable urge to give her the finger. He focused his attentions again on Lara as it appeared she was making to move away from him.

"I don't think that's any of your business, Alex. Now if you'll excuse me…." and with that she was gone, all trace of her merged with the crowd. _Damn. _The curse now had another layer of meaning asAlex checked his watch, realizing he was now forty-six minutes late, and hurried to his meeting with one of the auctioneers. On his way he waved cheerily at the receptionist, and suppressed a laugh as he heard her _tut _behind him.

­­

* * *

_Essex, 1991._

The school was situated eighteen miles off the M11, near Great Waltham. It was a tall, Romanesque building, built in the nineteenth century. It was designed largely after the Foundations Abbey, in Yorkshire. The walls weren't as thick as the original style in the tenth and eleventh centuries due to improvement in architecture, but the windows and doors with the rounded top remained. A long gravel driveway led up to the main building and divided into two roads encircling the construction until they joined again in a large open car park at the back.

The large school grounds catered for everything those of the aristocracy tend to enjoy: polo; rugby; swimming and equestrian activities, among others. Large, gently sloping lawns dotted with trees, shrubs and many different kinds of flowers flowed around the building, the moderate breeze giving the grass the appearance of waves. Behind the building where the swimming pool was situated, a place of serene quiet was located. Intricate wooden benches designed with floral carvings surrounded a pond fifteen metres wide at its widest point. A large tree with drooping branches that created a kind of skirt lightly brushed the water. Many couples had meandered there way there at one point or another. All conversation seemed to cease as one neared this tranquil area, everyone seeming to treat it as something sacred. In the world of today, any area with a simple beauty and peace seemed to be hallowed. An oasis in the middle of a centre for learning. Hushed voices and the soft turning of pages, mingled with the singing of birds and the soothing noise of moving air on water soothed the pupils minds and allowed them a moment to breathe. In contrast, at the other end of the grounds a band of orchestral musicians played _The Four Seasons_.

Inside, many marble columns lined the great hall at the entrance to the school. The floor was a clean tan tile. Numerous corridors leading to classrooms and dormitories tapered off at every angle, some lined with lockers. Immediately to the left was the reception desk where visitors signed in and any students wishing to leave the grounds had to first report. The uniform consisted of dark grey slacks or a green and navy chequered skirt- optional- a blue shirt, and a navy tie and jumper. The navy blazers were rarely worn during the summer term. At ten to nine, the building was stuffed with people hurrying to class, loitering in the hallways or trying to jam in some last minute study.

Class 4A: Classical Studies. The room sloped upwards towards the back, allowing the students an equal view of the large white-board on the right as one enters the door. Rows of single desks lined the floor, but the walls were almost barren of life, apart from the occasional graffiti on its lower half. It seems even those of the higher class don't escape the drudgery of vandalism, even if it is mostly on a smaller scale. The noise in the classroom grew more subdued as the long hand on the clock above the board edged closer to twelve.

The sixteen year old Lara Croft had her feet propped up on the desk- a habit she had already acquired- her hair was in a simple pony tail, and she had chosen the option of slacks. She looked up from her book on ancient Hellenistic rituals when she felt a new presence beside her. A blonde haired boy pulled out the normally empty seat next to her at the front of class, dropping his over stuffed backpack beside him. Without sparing a glance around the room, he pulled out the course book and began to flick through it. He was wearing the blazer and his collar button was done, she noticed. Most of the students in the school wouldn't suffer to have that button done, Lara included- far too uncomfortable. He had an austere expression. It seemed no one else had noticed him yet. Usually a new student was surrounded by over-eager class mates, with the class representative trying to squeeze in through the crowd in order to formally welcome the person to the school.

The bell indicating the start of class finally rang, and the class-rep called out for silence as there was a universal dive into backpacks for books and copies. A middle-aged man with receding red hair and a tweed suit entered the room. He was of average height and build, and placing his leather briefcase on the large oak desk in front of the board, class was in session.

First item on the agenda was role-call, a curse of every English school. Last name on the list was West, Alexander, to which the boy beside Lara replied. Noticing where the new student was sitting, he couldn't help making plans concerning the other teachers as to how long he could stand the seating location. Not that Lara was a bad student, au contraire, but since her father had died nine years ago she had become almost insufferable to the other students, demanding they do things for before finally giving them the proverbial cold-shoulder. Being at the top of a lot of her classes didn't help with her acceptance among her peers. When all the students in the class looked over at the boy, he shifted anxiously and shyly stared down at his desk. Nope, he wouldn't stand a chance with Lara.

At ten o'clock the bell rang, and there was a mad dash for the front of the room. Lara got up and left for her next class, leaving Mr.West to fend off the avalanche of questions bombarding him from every angle. He had taken the sullen option and sat staring at the desk silently. Another minute went by until the teacher finished shuffling his papers and made to disperse the class. West bolted out the door at the first opportunity, and, ignoring the aid of the class-rep, pulled out a map of the school and hurried down the many hallways to the supposed location of his next class. He glanced at the door. Class 2D: Literature.

Entering, the only face he recognized was that of his neighbour from his previous class, sitting in the same position- second from the wall. Taking the same seat, he nervously ran a hand through his hair as he felt several pairs of eyes on him, then hurriedly tried to sort out the mess he'd made of it. _First impressions, and all that,_ he thought idly as the class began to settle down, finally taking off the blazer as the sun shone directly on his back through the floor-to-ceiling windows. When the teacher didn't show for several minutes the noise decibel began to rise steadily once more.

Taking Peter F. Hamilton's _Fallen Dragon_ out of his backpack, Alex tried to read over the commotion around him, a skill he had developed in a noisy home. The only problem was that the person next to her was tapping her foot against the edge of his table, jarring him each time. After the fleeting thought on her beauty-_ don't start with that shit,_ he sternly scolded himself- he cleared his throat. When no answer was forthcoming he tried to ignore her, rather than put himself in an awkward position. A third way through the class with still no sign of the teacher, Alex took a deep breath and attempted to get her attention,

"Um, excuse me?" _tap-tap_. "Hey, do you mind?" She finally turned towards him and looked down to where he was indicating.

"Move, then," and she turned back to her book, which he realised he had read.

"You know there is a more update version of that book now? Half of what's in your one has been proven wrong,"_ tap-tap_. Sighing, he went back to his book just as the now-twenty-five-minutes-late teacher finally arrived and started class. Everyone took out a copy of John Steinbeck's _Of Mice And Men._

_

* * *

_

_Boothby's, the present._

Alex finally left the meeting with a lighter briefcase and furrowed brows. How was he going to get Lara to talk to him? Better yet, how was he going to get her to stay in the same room as him far more than a few moments? He knew what he had done was wrong, but it wasn't bad enough to deserve this treatment, surely? Why had she taken it to heart so much?

He was contemplating this when his cell phone vibrated. A text message showed up on screen. From Lara. Telling him to meet her at his apartment at seven thirty. He tried to reply, but she had switched her phone off. This was the point when he realised he had moved flats. _shit._

**Authors Note:** I know Peter F. Hamilton's book was not out in 1991, but it seemed like something Alex would read. If any one has read it, then you would know there is a lot more in it than just sci-fi. Thank you for reading.

Kai.


	3. Admission

**Authors Note:** Some people may be confused by the time changes. The flash backs are out of order and are supposed to leave gaps that will later be filled. Hope people are enjoying this as the end is no where in sight.

**Disclaimer:** Tomb Raider and its characters are the property of Simon West, Paramount Pictures and Eidos Interactive. This story is strictly for my own personal pleasure. Any similarities between this story's plot and any others is purely coincidental. No plagiarism is intended. The lyrics of _the weapons are concealed _belong to Biffy Clyro.

**I'm wearing it under my face.**

**An expression and an admission of my disgrace.**

**But I'm sure I will make it okay.**

**I'll try to give you something better.**

**I'm wearing it today.**

**You with a grin on your face.**

**Me with a bag in it's place.**

**I've tied a rope round my neck, trying to win your respect.**

**Conceal the weapons.**

**Death shares everything I have.**

**But I hate the way I conceal the weapons. **

**Blame it on the staring match between the two of us.**

Chapter Three: Admission.

_Essex, 1992._

A year had passed since Alex had first joined Lara's school, and since then they had developed a posse of friends. There was Reginald Carter, Keif Macarthur, Michael Smith and Eric Whithers. It was the middle of the summer, the sun was shining and there were only a few cirrus clouds dotting the sky like delicate brush stokes. Alex, Lara, Reginald and Keif had been wondering around all day when doing nothing was on the agenda. Michael was one of those who said they would be in, and then slept until two in the afternoon and forgot about the plans. Eric was on holiday in Tennessee. They had wondered aimlessly around the nearest town, checking out the usual haunts: the video store, Buskers and all the local record shops. They finally got tired of walking and went to their favourite café. It had three floors: the ground floor had a take-away sandwich bar and a few scattered tables; the third floor had another food counter where one could order hot food and a delicious English fry. This floor had enough tables to comfortably seat a hundred-and-fifty people. The pseudo-second floor was where the group headed, hoping it was free. It had two couches facing each other with two low wooden tables joined in the middle. There were a number of small poufs, and a baby chair leaned against the wall under the stairs. A banister ran along two sides as it was more of an after thought between floors. One could look down and see all the people drinking hot beverages below. Luckily, today it was empty.

Lara and Reginald were seated on the couch nearest the stairs, while Keif sat next to Alex on the opposite Chair. In order to keep the employees happy, they all bought hot chocolates, which came with marshmallows, and Reginald ordered a warm chocolate muffin with cream. They chatted for awhile about nothing important before Lara and Kief become lost in the conversation between Alex and Reginald on why the guy in the red suit always dies in Star Trek. Eventually Claire and Denise, relatively new acquirements to the group, appeared at the top of the stairs. Alex, being a gentleman, went to sit on one of the poufs, giving up his seat which Denise quickly took, leaning against Kief. Claire tried to squeeze in between Lara and Reginald, who budged up to make room. The topics soon moved on to whether Denise should get her tongue pierced and plans for going up to the Download festival before one the waitresses asked them to leave. Some days they could stay for hours, but today was particularly busy, and twice Alex had dropped one the balls that he was attempting to juggle onto a table below. He insisted that he wanted to join the juggling club, and any aspiring juggler should have a set of balls handy. It really was amazing how far this eclectic group had come, despite the mounting bets in the teachers lounge, especially now that two of the group had 'gotten together'.

Claire and Denise- after a long goodbye with Kief- eventually disappeared, and the gang made to go to Alex's house, but half way there they decided to take a short cut through the yet unfinished bypass that cut through the field beside Alex's estate, which had a dozen or so nice sized houses, all identical apart from the lawns and coat of paint. They had two floors, and the kitchens led to a glass conservatory. The group slipped and slid un the loose stones until they eventually reached the cliff part at the end, overlooking the unkept field, with grass and weeds up to your elbows. They spent some time rolling the larger boulders down the cliff, loud booms randomly ringing out across the field, followed by the rattling of loose stones cascading down the steep slope. Several people over in the estate looked over, but were too far away to recognize faces, or tell the young hoodlums to stop making noise.

Reginald eventually took charge, as always. They scrambled down the cliff, bringing a barrage of stones with them and almost losing their footing numerous times. Eventually at the bottom, they realized that a small river ran along the cliff's edges, no wider than five feet at any given point, and meandered through the green sea. Running along the edge, they eventually found a grassy path and made a bee-line for the estate after several brushes with the river, which had a habit of just appearing. Coming up to a barbed wire, they realized that the river ran across the whole border of the estate, which started in a two metre rocky precipice where building work had been going on.

"Shit," Alex laughed as he remembered that the plank across the river had been broken by Reginald on a previous escapade, before the bypass had started. Lara smiled wryly at the guys stupidity. It had been their idea, and now here they were, stuck in a field riddled with nettles, all of them too stubborn to turn around and go back the way they came now that they had been presented with a challenge.

"You're the monkey boy, you go first," Kief gave Alex a shove.

"Hey! I'm trying to climb over a barbed wire here!" He shouted indignantly, one leg balanced precariously on the lower rung of the barbed wire on either side.

"Wouldn't want any mishaps, now would we?" Lara's eyes flickered downwards for a second before giving Alex her most dazzling smile. Alex merely laughed off the comment a little too quickly and decided to chance it. He swung his leg over the other side and jumped. He was glad he was still holding onto the wooden post as he realized the safe-looking grass on the other side was actually part of the river, and his shoes were flooded. Deciding not to tell the others about his little discovery he beckoned them over. Once they were all over and equally as wet as him, they looked around. Except Kief who had jumped a little too far. His right leg was now soaked up to his knee. They all swore profusely at Alex.

"The river looks shallower over here, think I might make a run for it," stated Alex, staring over at the building site just half a dozen feet away. He tried to jump half-way across, only again to realize he had miscalculated. It rose up to his upper thighs. While the guys laughed on the other side, he waded the rest of the way in half jumps, soaking himself further. Climbing up the small edge, he swiftly proceeded to whip his trousers off over his black and white converse trainers in one, fluid motion.

"He made it across?" Lara sounded slightly daunted by the thought of wading through that mass of water that was beginning to look a little like sewerage, if the brown liquid running down Alex's bare legs was any indication.

"The real question is: how did he take off his pants without removing his shoes?" Reginald quipped.

"I am the king!" Alex half yelled in answer to Reginald's question, wringing his hands above his head. "Jump in, the water's goddamn freezing!" he looked over at a pile of blocks.

"I think over here is shallower," moving a few steps down the river, Reginald motioned for Alex to throw in some of the blocks, to further shallow the stretch of water. Hoisting up a block, Alex chucked it in roughly the area indicated, causing a large splash and the further soaking of his mates.

"Hey, watch it!" shouted Kief as Alex proceeded to throw block after block into the river, to no visible avail. Deciding that it should be shallow enough, Reginald jumped into roughly the centre. Unfortunately, this part was actually deeper and filled with sewerage. Reginald, despite being 6'3", was submerged up to his belly button in freezing water. He gave a yelp as he realized his feet were stuck in the sticky goop.

The group were doubled over in laughter as Reginald yelled for help. Alex climbed part way down and reached out a hand to help him out, but was laughing so hard that he kept unintentionally pulling it back.

"Will you stop vibrating and get me the hell out of here!" cried Reginald who was now laughing equally as hard, which only caused him to sink further. Finally getting hold of himself enough to get a grip on his friends out stretched arm, Alex hoisted him out, almost toppling back in at the resistance he met from the sludge.

"Dude, you're covered in shit!" Alex was practically rolling on the ground as Reginald tried to take off his pants like Alex had, only to get them tangled around his shoes. Alex looked over by the fence that enclosed the building site and led to the estate, noticing for the first time the two wooden ladders lying on the gravel. "Shit, there were ladders there," he pointed, and Reginald almost hit him.

"So I'm soaked up to my waist in shit for nothing!" another howl of laughter erupted from their still stranded friends. They draped the ladders across the river one over the other as they weren't that strong, and the others got over without much mishap. Lara gave the two 'heroes' a quick hug, even though she lingered a moment longer in Alex's embrace. They proceeded on their route to Alex's house, climbing over the fence and laughing at the onlookers. They must look a right sight! Soaked trousers, dishevelled clothes, two of them in just their t-shirts and boxers, brown water running down their legs.

Outside his house, Alex ordered them to take off their shoes and socks. Leading them round the back, he ordered Kief to close the gate they had just passed though behind him. In the yard, they draped their socks and shoes over the washing line.

"That's new," Lara had noticed a path of sawed off logs leading to what looked like a small vegetable garden, half of which was hidden by a see through plastic tent, emitting warmth- obviously a green house. The rest of the garden was surrounded by a tall, dark wooden fence, which two thin trees seemed to rest against, leaning over into the garden behind. On the opposite side of the garden, joining the conservatory, was a nice wooden patio, complete with wooden deck chairs and table. Looking into the conservatory, one could see two wooden benches lined with cushions, and sculptures of chameleons and long legged birds made from black wire and multicoloured crystal-like stones. A book lay open face down on the bench nearest the patio. _Ancient American civilisations._

"Made it myself," Alex told her proudly. As the others used his key to open the back door, Alex showed Lara the vegetable patch, and told her about all the splinters and blisters he received while cutting the logs and digging up the path and soil.

After Reginald and Alex took a shower- there was a bathroom downstairs and two upstairs- and everyone cleaned up, the guys all begged Alex to make them waffles. Alex acquiesced. His mother was the one who normally made them, but she had left him instructions and he was a good cook, he was sure he could do it. His parents had gone to France for two weeks, and Alex was left on his own, hence the numerous sleep-overs, but they were a good group of friends, and Alex cleaned the house daily. Reginald and Kief took a beer from the fridge and went into the sitting room. Alex's parents left beer out in the hopes that he would take it, but Alex had developed a reaction to it that was probably psychosomatic. Lara wouldn't drink.

Lara watched and laughed as Alex made the Waffle mixture, occasionally mixing the ingredients in the wrong order, and then running out of butter and somehow making a substitute. It was only half three in the day. Ready, he called in the other guys. Placing ice cream, maple syrup and sprinkles on the table, they all tucked in.

"These are pretty good, cheers," Kief mumbled, mouth half full.

"I thought I screwed it up a few times, and then when I ran out of butter and had to make my own…." Alex laughed as his two non-present-at-the-time friends nearly dropped their forks.

"You didn't put anything in it like sperm or any other kind of 'cream' did you? We know what your like," Kief stared closely at his waffle. Alex merely raised his eyebrows. Seeing that Lara was still eating, Kief picked up his fork once more.

"Hey Reg, you bring the video?" That was Lara, and after everyone had finished they went into the living room to watch _Ninja Scroll._ The sitting room was also filled with small sculptures of animals, this time made of wood, there were two giraffes and a family of hippos, as well as a number of lizards stuck on the wall. There were several paintings on the two walls that didn't have windows. The one above the fire place on the right as one enters the door was a rather nice painting by Alex himself of a scene where two knights on horse back were jousting to the cheers of a crowd with their back to the viewers. A large red dragon was in the background. It must have been done when he was eleven or so. He was definitely the artist in the group. In the corner along the same wall was the television. On the left of the door was another windowless wall and one of the couches, and the wall opposite the fire place had the other, both with throw-overs and cushions. Next to the couch by the window was a leather arm chair with a nice footstool. Kief quickly sat down in that one, Reginald on the couch beside him. With Lara closest to the door, she and Alex both sat down on the Couch furthest from the television as the credits rolled, talking and making fun of various things during the movie, earning them surreptitious glances from their other friends. After the movie and numerous music videos (who gave Reg the remote?), it was half six and time for pizza. Money had been left for take-outs.

As the evening waned on Lara left to go home. Immediately after she was gone, Kief and Reg asked Alex if he liked her, to which he replies no nonchalantly. Not believing a word of it, they proceeded to randomly ask throughout the evening, hoping to catch him unawares. Alex always seemed to open up more very early in the morning, a combination of lack of sleep and low blood pressure made worse by the fact that he had a habit of hanging upside while watching _South Park_, his favourite show, to which he had all the current seasons. At ten past three, Reg asked him again.

"Alright, alright. Yes I like her," Alex finally admitted, sighing heavily. "You have no idea how hard it is. Reg, I know you've been turned down a few times but this is different. She's my best friend and I spend so much time with her, knowing she doesn't feel the same. I went back to America for a month this summer, and sulked for most of it. I locked myself in my room and couldn't even read or watch TV because I missed her so much. I actually don't like any other girl in school because my mind is focused solely on Lara Croft."

"Damn, you're really serious about her," Kief shook his head in pity as Alex stared at his now pyjama clad knees.

"You know she likes you too, right?" Alex laughed humourlessly at Reg. "You don't have to believe me but its true. She told me awhile ago. It was almost as hard as you to wring it out of her." They spent another half hour trying to convince Alex that Lara did indeed like him, before giving up and changing subject, noticing how uncomfortable it was making Alex.

When the others had finally fallen asleep, Alex muld their conversation over in his mind. Could Lara possibly be interested in him? He would like to think so, but he hadn't seen any signs that she did, though Reg had pointed out that Alex had never been in a relationship, and so wouldn't know what to look for. Whenever Lara snapped at him, or ignored him, Alex felt like shit and spent the time until he saw her again trying to figure out what he did wrong. Maybe she only put up with him because she felt obliged to? That she really hated him. Then there were days like today where everything was right and there was no place he'd rather be. If Alex went a long time without seeing her, he would grow increasingly frustrated and upset until he just crawled under the bed with ear phones, not moving except for nature calls for days at a time. It just hurt so much when she wasn't there, like everything good in his life was missing.

He knew he depended on her too much, but when ever he tried to wean himself off her it was unbearable. He tried to think of everything about her that he didn't like, but he kept drawing up a blank. He liked even those qualities other people found annoying. He refused to put a name to what he thought he felt.

Alex sighed, resigned to the fact that he would be getting no sleep tonight.

_

* * *

_

_Alex's flat, present._

That's why it killed him when Lara broke off all contact with him. Now he was sure it was love, having been in relationships. None of those woman, though he cared about them, hit him in just the right place like Lara did. At some point, his previous girlfriends realized this and, some being not so understanding, broke up with him. He was wounded to the core when Lara angrily shouted at him over the prayer wheels. But it broke his heart when she wouldn't even let him explain. He had a _good_ reason, _dammit._ After everything they had been through together she had given up on him the first chance she got. He was certain thereafter that she really had felt nothing for him, it was all one sided. He knew that he had denied that she liked him anyway, but the confirmation was shattering.

It was just gone six o'clock. The curtains in Alex's bedroom were shut, blocking out the ailing sun. Alex had been sitting on his four-poster bed that was pushed up by the window, the same one that he had in his previous apartment on White Chapel street. Only the mattress had been changed. The new one was far more comfortable, but the edges drooped over the sides of the bed stand, giving it a slightly-out-of-place feel. The plain white sheets were folded neatly onto one corner of the bed, pillows on top. He had always folded his bed clothing like this, something he had picked up from watching far too much Japanese manga and anime. He had left the lights off, preferring to think in darkness. He was sitting on the edge of the bed furthest from the window, hands clasped between his knees, head slightly bowed in thought. A slight frown creased his brow, trying to figure out what Lara could possibly want from him. With a sigh and decisive nod of his head, Alex got up, planning on taking a shower. He would just have to wait and see.

_

* * *

_

_White Chapel street, South-East London, present._

Lara Croft had decided to walk the rest of the way to Alex's flat as Bryce had asked to come along in order to see a friend of his about a new search engine. Lara had no idea that Bryce was interested in that side of computers, but then again Bryce _would_ have to have a dabble at everything computer-related. Having dropped Lara off some streets away, Hilary had conceded to go with Bryce and keep him out of trouble. She didn't need a repeat of the last time Bryce had went to see a 'friend'. Another fiasco like _that_ was the last thing she needed.

Slipping off a shoulder strap as she neared the flat, Lara noticed Alex waiting outside. Wasn't he going to invite her in? He may be a sell out, but Alex was nothing if not polite.

Lara had thought of Alex a lot in the past few days, her constant dreams involving him seeming to have conjured up the real thing. After the Chinook, Lara couldn't help but feel guilty at how she had treated him, then chided herself for worrying over him. Still, when she saw Powell throw the knife at Alex's chest, then watched him plunge beneath the water only to let out a cry of pain as his lower body was crushed by the orrery, Lara could think of nothing but saving him. She didn't shed any tears as she watched him die, having already decided that this was not how things were going to happen. Her subconscious had already made up its mind to use the triangle if she could to save him even as she gave him the breath of life. The relief she felt to see him standing there, slightly confused could only be beaten by the relief she felt when she realised that he had no recollection of what happened. She knew that Powell had figured out that Lara's feelings towards Alex weren't purely platonic- the scenes between the two in Cambodia being a primary clue. Powell had had men follow Alex as he chased after Lara, and had been informed of Alex's momentary lapse of weakness when he let her go. It was obvious that there were some things the American valued more than money.

Lara had contrived to not tell Alex what really happened, and the fact that up until this point she had refused to see him helped her avoid the questions she knew he would ask. Unfortunately Lara needed help, and Alex was the only man for the job. Ancient American history was a specialty of his, especially the Mayan culture.

As she approached, Alex made his way towards her, a slight look of guilt on his face.

"Um, Lara?" What had he done this time? She narrowed her eyes at him, already regretting setting any wheels in motion. "I haven't done anything," he put up his hands defensively, slightly annoyed at her level of mistrust. "It's just that I've moved apartment, and I tried to ring you but your cell phone was switched off, and no one would answer at the Manor. Look, I live in the North-West of London now, and it would take too long to get there. Can whatever it is you have to say to me be said in a café or something?" Lara acquiesced, and they moved to find a place to talk, Lara a step ahead the whole time.

****

****

**Authors Note:** Thank you for taking the time to read.

Kai.


	4. O Girlfriend

**Authors Note:** Thank you, Mog-everthing, for reviewing, it means a great deal to know someone likes my story. This instalment is a little later than usual but that's because I went to my first concert, which just so happened to be my favourite band, Weezer. Kicked ass, by the way.

**Disclaimer:** Tomb Raider and its characters are the property of Simon West, Paramount Pictures and Eidos Interactive. This story is strictly for my own personal pleasure. Any similarities between this story's plot and any others is purely coincidental. No plagiarism is intended. The lyrics of _O Girlfriend _belong to Weezer, as well as this chapter's title.

**I miss you, and I wonder how you feel about me too.**

**Do you miss the way we would play, and waist our time away?**

**Suddenly we're apart and I can't see you every night,**

**Though we fight I love you so much now I can't feel your touch.**

**O Girlfriend, that's the end, and I'm lost without your love, oh love.**

**In your arms I was happy as a little boy could be, **

**Taking pills and mellowing out, now I just want to shout**

**For your love 'cause I'm drifting further from you everyday.**

**Driving by your place every night, I used to feel all right.**

**O Girlfriend, that's the end, and I'm lost without your love, oh love.**

**Eating fancies every night, without you to be all right, oh love, oh love.**

**O Girlfriend, that's the end, and I'm lost without your love, oh love.**

**In your arms I was happy as a little boy could be,**

**Taking pills and mellowing out, now I just want to shout,**

**Now I just want to shout, now I just want to shout….**

* * *

Chapter Four: O Girlfriend.

_Near White Chapel street, South-East London, present._

They had found a café on a corner two blocks away. _Café Nero. _The noise from the traffic outside was subdued this morning, it being a bank holiday weekend and a major football game just starting had most people indoors or roaring raucously at the television screens at the local pup, pint in hand with stale peanuts and packets of crisps. Large slightly tainted windows and warm tables and chairs of dark wood separated by chest high partitions of earthy colours gave the café an almost paradoxical air of safety and secrecy. Taking a table near the window where wall met wall, they sat opposite each other and a staring match ensued, each waiting for the other to speak. Near at the same time they realized how childish they were behaving and shared a quiet laugh, a small amount of their camaraderie returning. Straightening in her chair, Lara waited while a short overly-thin waitress approached and took their orders: two black coffees. Frowning at the fact that they still had a great deal in common despite the deep fissure that had developed in recent years, Lara cleared her throat and made to speak, but to her annoyance was beaten to it.

"So Lara, I heard about the whole fiasco with Pandora's Box. Sorry about that Terry guy, I was informed the two of you were close," Alex's eyes revealed nothing as he sipped his scalding hot coffee. He had a damn good poker face when he had need for it. Seeing the tightening of her jaw, Alex smiled inwardly. It was time for a little pay-back for her recent treatment. He had decided that before she could get anything out of him he would get all he could out of her. Besides, he was genuinely worried about her well-being, whether she chose to believe so or not.

"That is none of your business, Alex," she ground out through gritted teeth, annoyed that he had already crawled underneath her skin and was slowly making plans to burrow deeper. She had to stop this before it could really start. "My dealings with other men are of no concern to you. As are my archaeological discoveries."

"Come now, Lara. I'm just showing an interest in your- uh," cough "love life. It has always intrigued me. Besides, I'm pretty sure you weren't the one to discover that particular item. It wasn't through your own original research, anyway." He was really burrowing today. _I must have ticked him off, _Lara thought idly, recalling that on the way up here he had swung his arms at his side in the standard pissed-off-Alex fashion. Deciding to turn the tables, Lara decided to bring up a topic that had just come to her attention through the routed pathways of an old friend.

"Speaking of our love lives Alex, I heard you broke up with Joe around the time of the prayer wheels. What did you do? As far as I can gather it involved cheating on your part." She smiled at Alex's discomfort. Lara had been vaguely aware that Alex was involved two years ago, but, because he was never one to kiss and tell, she had known very little about her. Keeping their partners secret had been easy at the time because they were both swamped with work and rarely managed to see each other. This was also around the time various news papers had started printing articles on some of Alex's scandalous affairs. She never would have expected it of him a few years ago, but with all that had come to light recently she wondered how she had never seen this side of him. The description of a greedy unscrupulous sell-out seemed to fit him perfectly, his reticent and geeky exterior finally shed to let the hideous creature that lied beneath come out for some air. Finally registering her last words, Alex leaned over the table quickly, nearly spilling his coffee, and grasped her arms roughly.

"Who said I cheated on her?" Alex's barely controlled anger surprised Lara.

"The newspaper, for one. You know, the one you gave all those personal details about me to, labelled us 'tomb raiders'?" his grip tightened if possible, she could feel his short nails biting through the long-sleeved denim shirt she was wearing, but before Lara could force him to he let go. Drawing his hands back so his palms gripped the edge of the table, Alex remained leaning forward as he realized how far Lara thought he had fallen. He didn't know if he should shake some sense into her, though he would probably end up with a knee between his thighs and a black eye, or just get up and walk out. Deciding that honestly he could never hurt her or leave her in a huff, he went for the direct approach.

"Firstly, you know I don't even read news papers, let alone give interviews. That wasn't me," she conceded the point. Alex never had taken any interest in the outside world. He was selfish in that respect, he just didn't care about anyone but himself and the people around him. The rest of the world was background noise not pertaining to his life and so of no interest to him. Lara had wondered about that, but she wasn't going to let him know she had doubted it, she was delighted that she had him so worked up. His knuckles were white, he was gripping the table so hard. "Secondly, my 'scandalous affairs' was a bunch of b. s. as well. _You_, of all people," he was pointing in her face now. "Should know that I wouldn't just sleep with some broad to get my kicks. Goddamn, Lara, what do you take me for? Make a few mistakes and suddenly all the truths of a person go out the window. I haven't _changed _dramatically over the past few years, ya know. I may be preaching to the choir and all that, but _you_ have changed far more. "

"And what is that supposed to mean Alex?" but he barely heard her, still caught up in his tirade.

" And I did not, I repeat _did_ _not_ cheat on Joe." He took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of calm. Lara could see him struggling for self-control, and was now beginning to regret bringing up the topic. She had a feeling the wound was still very raw, and having just lost Terry she could appreciate his anger. She tried to remind herself that he had started this.

"So tell me, Alex. What happened to Joe? I heard you were only engaged to her for two weeks before she left you, " oh, she was twisting that knife deep. Alex thought back to how he had proposed to Joe. They had gone to the theatre to see her favourite show, _Phantom Of The Opera. _It had still been early when it had finished so they had gone to Hyde Park and settled down under a large oak for a picnic. While opening the bottle of wine for her- he still didn't drink- he asked her to marry him. She had been shocked for sixty-three of the most agonizing seconds of his life before saying yes and wrapping her arms around his neck. All thoughts of food were rapidly forgotten as they kissed, the now cork less bottle leaning against the tree.

"She didn't leave me," he said so quietly Lara almost didn't hear him. His grip on the table edge had loosened and he was now leaning back low in his chair, arms folded, head bowed. He wasn't angry anymore. Instead, his gaze had turned inward.

"So what happened, Alex?" Lara was no longer trying to get a rise out of him, but was now genuinely interested. He wouldn't look at her as he spoke.

"This guy broke into her apartment. She wasn't supposed to be there. Her business meeting had been cancelled, so she was in the kitchen when he snuck up behind her." His voice dropped lower so that Lara had to lean forward to hear him. "I had been driving past and saw her car parked outside. We had had an argument the night before over something that's so unimportant now that I can't even remember it. I was due to leave to go and search for the prayer wheels in a few days and I didn't want to leave things as they were. I decided to go in and see her, but halfway up the stairs to her door I heard her scream. She had just seen him. When I entered the kitchen this guy had just taken the knife on the kitchen counter and stabbed her in the gut. Before I could do anything he ran past me and disappeared. I was focused on Joe's bleeding form at the time. She was laying on the floor giving these little gasped cries of pain. I don't think she even knew I was there," his voice cracked on the last sentence. "By the time the ambulance arrived she was already dead."

Lara leaned over to put her hand on his arm. A silent offering of comfort. He had been acting strangely when he arrived in Tibet. The whole plane journey he had sat in his seat looking dejected and humming a tune she didn't recognize….

_

* * *

_

_On route to Tibet, two years previously._

Lara pulled up outside Gatwick airport in her Bentley, leaving Hilary to drive it home. After pulling two equipment bags out of the boot, she said good-bye to her butler and friend, smiling as he bid her take care and scowled at her choice of clothes. She still wouldn't wear a blasted dress for him. She was decked out in tan skin-hugging pants and a black tank top, black coat draped over her left shoulder. She took off her sun-glasses and looked around the airport. _Definitely prefer Stanstead,_ she thought, watching the crowded terminal for any sign of Alex. People bumped and jostled each other, the broken rattle of luggage wheels on the smooth floor. The restaurants were virtually empty for once, except Burger King, from which four long lines of queuing customers tapered off into the eating establishment beside it, a sandwich bar franchise, _Benjy's. _That should keep Alex happy, he loved to eat at the one on Oxford street. Whenever he got to choose where to go for lunch on their little shopping adventures to that busy little street _(did I just say little?)_, he would without a doubt pick there. She preferred the Japanese noodle bar or that little Italian place, herself.

Speak of the devil, Alex had just emerged from the crowd, dragging a large grey and navy sports bag behind him. He was wearing well worn denim jeans and his favourite black leather jacket, which had two stripes of red and brown on the shoulders. To top it off he had a large pair of Ray-Ban aviator sunglasses, nose bridge included. The only thing out of place was the t-shirt: reddish-brown with a picture of Sesshomaru on the front, from InuYasha. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly as he saw Lara, and he made his way over.

An hour and a half later they were seated on the plane to Tibet, Alex taking the window seat because Lara wanted to stretch her legs on the long flight. Alex had been quiet so far, and it was not lost on Lara. Any attempt at small talk was soon abandoned as it was obvious he wasn't in the mood, Alex preferring to sit in silence eating the complimentary peanuts. The usual comments on the melancholy of flights, with their uniform neatness that somehow still seemed untidy, despite best efforts at minimizing difference was not forthcoming. Very unusual from the most cynical man in the world.

"Are you alright, Alex?"

"No, I'm fine," he smiled slightly, remembering a conversation they had had in their teens on how paradoxical that statement was. How could you be fine and yet not be fine? It usually meant the latter. He knew Lara would press the subject, but he really didn't want to talk about it and didn't know how to deter her without being rude. She would know something was really wrong if he snapped or refused to answer.

"Are you sure? You don't look fine." He sighed in away that told her he was about to change the subject. He didn't disappoint.

"So, after we arrive at the hotel do we go straight to the site or take a look round the local settlement?"

**

* * *

**

**Authors Note:** I got a little side tracked. Plot finally appears in the next chapter, which will be longer than this. Instalments will be weekly from now on as I have school. Thank you for reading.

Kai.


	5. Skills of persuasion

**Author's Note:** I decided to change the title to _Endless Waltz._ I apologise for the long gap between updates, but I wasn't sure I should continue. Besides, I kind of had writer's block.

**Disclaimer:** Tomb Raider and its characters are the property of Simon West, Paramount Pictures and Eidos Interactive. This story is strictly for my own personal pleasure. Any similarities between this story's plot and any others is purely coincidental. No plagiarism intended.

'_The ancient Mayas hell, called by them Metnal, was not a burning pit of fire and brimstone but a dark, cold place where lost souls, benumbed with chill, struggled forever in thick, dark mud.'_

**Thompson, Edward.**

Chapter Five: Skills of Persuasion.

The archaeological convention had started four hours ago, and after numerous talks on the current digs, Lara needed some fresh air. The orators were very passionate about there subjects. They tended to fall pray to the annoying overindulgence that all the best authors and those studying the various forms of oration learned to avoid through experience, and greatly advised against. Several minutes after those in the room had learned all they wanted to know on a particular topic the speakers insisted on going over the minute detail that will hence render the speech ineffective.

One by one people began to migrate to different parts of the hotel, some even going so far as to leave altogether. Trying unsuccessfully to excuse herself from the oh-so-slightly overweight middle aged man currently trying to convince her to work for some auctioneer or other, to authenticate this and that, a Mr. Waterston so genially introduced himself and steered Lara away with the pretence of important business.

Mr. Waterston just so happened to be Lara's newest 'client', for lack of a better word. He had engaged Lara in a conversation on a certain lost artefact a few weeks ago, at a similar convention. Having aroused her curiosity, she delved into the subject a little deeper in her own time and realised two things: one, this truly was an irresistible item; and two, if she planned on locating it she would need to learn as much as possible on Mayan history before the area in which the item was said to be found was demolished for its' land. She had only ever given Mayan history a cursory glance, finding- in her opinion- other topics more worthy of her time. The lure of the Babylonians and Ancient Greeks was that much more appealing. It was obvious Lara would need a little outside help, and there was none in a better form than Alex. He was an authority on Mayan culture, and very proficient at finding artefacts in his own right. Plus, she had worked with him for years, and new his methods. There was only one little set- back, and discussions on it had long since been exhausted. She had intended on asking him to accompany her at the café three days ago, breaking the agreement she now fully regretted, but the conversation- let's just say it didn't go as planned.

It was now half eight in the evening. The sun had long since gone down in the western sky, and the new moon was dulled by the light pollution that comes with any large human settlement. Lara walked out on to one of the many balconies dotted around the five-star hotel. Archaeology wasn't exactly a booming trade, anything more than four-star being unusual for a small convention such as this. She would be interested to know who the sponsors were. The balcony overlooked a quiet street, nothing but a few cars passing by and the orange glow of the street lights to distract the eye. The Victorian buildings across the road were silhouetted in shadow, hiding the dark red brick from view, only occasionally marred with graffiti. This time of day was what made her love London. No matter how much it might change, the feeling the city gives off on a quiet night could never be rendered from it's grasp. The air was heavy as if with expectancy, somehow humid despite the cold temperature. It was a feeling impossible to articulate, one having to experience it for oneself.

There was Mr. West, leaning on the black banister. She thought she had spotted him a few times in the crowd of people milling about. He was wearing a dark suit, the colour indiscernible in the dim light. Black, maybe navy. Dark shirt underneath. That, and the shadows under his eyes gave him a look of utter desolation. His expression was withdrawn, focused on something out of Lara's view, and showed no recognition to her presence as she drew up beside him, leaning her elbows on the metal frame with her back against the street.

"Where are you now, Alex?"

Glancing up at last from his reflection, Alex found an apparition staring at him with mild curiosity. Taking a deep breath, he shifted his weight on to his right forearm, leaning slightly away from her.

" Metnal." She frowned slightly, unsure of what he was referring to. When no further explanation was forth coming, Lara pressed on with her purpose.

"Alex, I have a proposition for you. There is an item I am interested in finding, and I require your expertise." A moment or so passed. Lara might wish to act formal, but to be honest Alex couldn't be bothered. Rather than make a comment on her 'needing his expertise', Alex motioned with his hand for her to continue. It seemed an effort just for that that simple gesture. The mere thought of talking was starting to feel like climbing Mt. Everest. "That's it. Should you accept, I will supply you with further information." The _Mission Impossible_ theme tune made itself heard in Alex's head. What the hell was this all about? He sighed, trying to form a reply with his now exceptionally thick tongue.

"Now, how could I not accept an offer like that?" It came out unusually soft. He mimicked Lara's position, looking into the empty lobby. Everyone was still at the complimentary meal.

Lara noticed for the first time that he had lost weight- not a good thing. He seemed paler too, wasted. She fully intended on asking him about it, but that would have to wait for another time.

"Glad you accept. Come over to the manor tomorrow at noon," with that, she pushed herself off the rail and made her way to the lobby.

"Mid-day, got it." Taking a personal organiser from his inner pocket, Alex turned his back on Lara's retreating form.

**Author's Note:** Finally, I'm going somewhere- kind of. Thank you for taking the time to read.

Kai.


	6. Images

**A/N:** I know what I write about their past is mostly trivial and seems of no relevance, but my excuse is character development. Yep, I'll stick with that. Thank you to those that reviewed.

**Disclaimer:** Tomb Raider and its characters are the property of Simon West, Paramount Pictures and Eidos Interactive. This story is strictly for my own personal pleasure. Any similarities between this story's plot and any others is purely coincidental. No plagiarism is intended.

Chapter Six: Images.

_Essex, 1992._

Lara and Alex sat on the wall outside Eric's house, watching some of the younger kids playing football in the field in the middle of Eric's estate. It was a blistering day, one of the hottest of the century ( the hottest not being until 2003, braking all records in England and reducing London to a sweltering haze, almost opaque due to the humidity of the air), and even the most cold blooded of people were decked out in shorts and t-shirts. Wearing what was soon to be his typical Dig attire- The tan khaki shorts, white sleeveless t-shirt and tan vest- Alex swung his legs, rhythmically beating them against the wall as Lara finished eating the wrap she had gotten at the petrol station on the way to Eric's house. Crumpling up the paper and shoving it into a pocket of Alex's shorts, Lara dusted of her hands and jumped off the wall.

"Where you going?" he craned his neck to follow her path up Eric's driveway. "You just gonna ignore me?" She lifted a hand and knocked on the door. A flutter of the curtain, and Eric opened the door.

"Hmm? Oh, hey guys." Shutting the door behind him, he rummaged in his pockets, only now checking that he had the keys. After being reprimanded by Lara for keeping them waiting, he made his way to the truck sitting in front of Alex. His father owned it, and reaching inside the back, he pulled out a couple of large crates and some left over carpet. "We better get started, it starts in three hours".

It was currently ten o'clock. There was another, smaller field surrounded by hedges on two sides on the far right of the estate, where the Westfields concert was to be held. It was nothing near as big as it sounds. A few bands from the local area would play- really just mess around, as there was no set list or anything. Whether you could play or not you still got to go on the soon to be made make-shift stage and- ah- contribute to the entertainment. Anyone with nothing else to do would show up. It was supposed to be some kind of charity event, a bunch of Eric's friends were selling various chocolate bars and an assortment of toys in aid of a children's hospital.

Making their way down the road leading to the field, they were accosted by an eight year old on a bicycle, one of Eric's minions, who attempted to crash into Eric in a game of chicken. Both lost, as they both moved out of the way. Reaching the expanse of grass, they deposited the items on the part closest to the road. Placing the crates in the rough formation of a stage, they tried to tackle the problem of getting the carpet to stick to the wood. Like all of the best laid plans, it should have been already catered for. Unfortunately, this was a bunch of unorganised teenagers, two of which had only been informed the day before of the event. Eric's friends had arrived, and were currently trying to set the stands, but all they had were some rickety, disused tables.

"You got any staples?" Alex asked, now that Lara had decided to sit quietly by to laugh and criticise their lack of planning and coordination. Eric got up to get the staple gun from his father's truck. On returning, they both struggled to staple the edges of the carpet, which had grown stiff from its prone position. When they began work on the last corner, Lara pointed out that the other corners were curling up, wrenching the staples from the wood.

When at last they had figured out a way of keeping the carpet cinched to the wood (a bunch of staples and a few bricks on each corner did the trick), some people began to arrive. Alex wondered off with a drummer to help him set up a- as he put it- super kit ( two bass drums, more cymbals than necessary and a few toms shy of every one in the phone book). Lara met up with Reg and Michael, Eric went to try and coax some half decent tables out of the neighbours.

When things were finally underway, Alex was drumming to Metallica- any excuse to pick up sticks- with Reg on guitar making a _slight_ fool of himself, and two other people of no importance. Handing over the kit to another drummer after finishing up the song, he then realised he had lost the plastic tip of one of his metal drumsticks. Pleading Lara's help, they- or rather she- found the tip under the stage and they decided to leave the estate.

They walked along the pavement by the main road, knocking shoulders to see who would talk first.

* * *

Dressed in a navy suit and tie, white shirt underneath, Alex made his way down the narrow tunnel. The earthen walls slightly soaked with water led him to believe he was deep underground. There was no breeze, and the air was stale and still, meaning he was far from the entrance- or exit. Torches were placed intermittently on either wall. Looking up, the ceiling was bare save for a few signs of insect life. The stone slabs beneath his feet, however, were marked with glyphs that were familiar, and yet not so. It gave him an uncomfortable feeling. He was dimly aware of how inappropriate it was to be wearing suit. It didn't occur to him to wonder how he got there, or why.

The tunnel began to narrow, and the feeling of claustrophobia began to set in. Stooping soon became necessary, and just before he had to crawl on his hands and knees the tunnel suddenly widened out into a small cavern. Four torches, larger than those along the tunnel walls, were placed at the 'Corners' of the circular cavern. Taking one from its post on the wall, he was drawn to the side directly across from the opening. What he saw was a contradiction in more ways than he could fully grasp.

There was a detail from the Maya Codex Cospi, preserved today in Bologna. It only showed a portion of the Codex, the part which is sometimes known in some archaeological books as the 'Cosmic conflict'. The planet Venus, Tlauixcalpantecuhtli, is depicted attacking an ocelot warrior. Its spear has pierced the warrior's heart. Records like these were left by Spanish priests and travellers and constitute the earliest ethnographic accounts of the descendants of the great prehispanic civilizations of the Americas. A codex in a cave did not make sense. These were not made by the Mayas, but rather those that conquered them.

Holding the flickering flame up against the wall, it began to flicker and change before his very eyes. It changed slowly at first, showing different parts of different codices. It sped up as it began to show images of hieroglyphs and statues that Alex didn't recognize. The flashing images become more and more erratic before finally flickering out and settling on one image….

_

* * *

_

_Alex's flat, present._

Early morning light filtered through the crack in the faded green curtains, refracting as it glanced off the glass coffee table. Something stirred under the cocoon of bed clothes centred on the bed. An arm reached out to shut off the irritating alarm, a high pitched beep over riding the noise of early-morning rush hour. Shadows flashed across the room with each large vehicle that passed by on the busy high road. Alex still couldn't figure out why apartments on a main street were so expensive. The night club a few doors down, grinding out a monotonous beat at all hours of the night and into the wee hours of the morning, coupled with the constant traffic outside should have detracted its value. After fumbling for a few seconds the alarm was shut off, leaving the room sounding empty. Alex groaned, kicking the blankets to the floor. They landed silently in a heap at the foot of the bed.

Running a hand through his hair, Alex tried to recall the dream that had left a light sheen of sweat on his skin. It came back in startling detail, all except the last scene, which refused to fully materialise in his mind. Glancing at the clock, he made to get ready to head to Lara's.

Twenty minutes later and he was dressed in a suit very like the one in his dream, mocrowaved coffee in hand. Glimpsing himself in the mirror above the unused fire place, he concluded that this was yet again the work of the infamous subconscious, blood-traitor to the cause. A worthy foe, it had bested Alex more times than he cared to admit. He put down the coffee cup and narrowed his eyes at the image reflected on the antique mirror, deciding that this either forebode good things to come or the equivalent of the down after a rush of adrenaline. Correcting his collar and shaking out the cuffs of his shirt with a flick of his wrist, Alex grabbed his briefcase and the keys he had left on the coffee table. He locked up and hastened over to the white _Ford Granada_ sitting idle in the small residents only car park on the corner.

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**A/N:** I will have to alter facts in the course of the story, but I'll try and keep it as right as possible. Thank you for taking the time to read.

Kai.


	7. IBEX

**Disclaimer:** Tomb Raider and its characters are the property of Simon West, Paramount Pictures and Eidos Interactive. This story was written for my own personal pleasure. Any similarities between this story's plot and any others is purely coincidental. No plagiarism is intended.

Chapter Seven: IBEX.

The digital clock on the dashboard told Alex that he was seventeen minutes early as he began the ascent up Croft Manor's long driveway. Pleased when he saw that his was the only car not belonging to Lara, he snatched his briefcase off the passenger seat, hoping its contents would be somewhat useful to whatever it was Lara intended He snapped the car door shut behind him and locked it, before turning around to gaze up at the observatory, somehow knowing that that was where Lara currently resided.

Knocking smartly on the great oak doors, Alex couldn't help but glance at his watch as Hilary took his time answering the door. _Must know it's me_, he thought wryly as at last a door was opened to permit him entry.

Hilary greeted Mr. West in an overly polite manner that did not belie his annoyance at the man who currently stood on the threshold of Croft Manor. Stepping aside, the overly protective butler informed the man that Lara was, indeed, up in the observatory. A noisy crash and string of profanity from a room adjoining the hall prevented Hilary from accompanying Mr. West up the stairs as he hastened to check on what devilry Bryce was up to now.

Pleased with being left to his own devices, Alex made his way to the observatory.

The door was open when at last he reached the highest landing. Lara sat under the telescope in a black swivel chair, legs propped over one side in a characteristic manner. Rather than reading a book or looking through the over sized telescope, being bright outside, she simply sat there staring at the door, waiting for his arrival.

It was slightly disconcerting, and the lack of any other chairs was not lost on Alex.

"You're early."

"I thought that was a virtue?" The sarcasm of the comment was lost as he couldn't bring himself to put any force behind his words. The soft quality of the night before was still present in his voice, and it was oddly disturbing to Lara.

"Let's get down to business shall we?" Rising from her chair, Lara walked past Alex and beckoned him to follow with a sharp jerk of the hand.

"Lets," turning sharply on his heels, Alex gave a mock salute and proceeded to walk in a clipped rhythm behind Lara, raising his knees unnecessarily high. _That's a little more like it,_ she thought as she pretended to be annoyed at his childish antics.

Taking the time to thoroughly reacquaint himself with the various pieces of artwork offered by Croft Manor, Alex ceased his march soon after they had traversed the first landing.

"Don't dawdle, Alex. If you have to stop and examine every painting I may have to forcefully drag you to the library." Looking at her from where he had stopped to examine a painting by some mildly famous French artist he was unfamiliar with, Alex raised his eyebrows in a daring gesture before jogging slightly to catch up with her. There were things of far more interest to him in the library, anyway.

Having never seen the inside of Lara's bedroom, the library was his favourite room of her home. Who couldn't like a room whose walls consisted of shelves of books? Then there were aisles of books, several antique divans positioned close to an old fire place that was already stacked and ready, but currently unlit. Then the subdued lighting, perfect. Glancing up at the high ceiling, Alex noticed that the painting that had been there had been painted over since he was last here. A cream whose name held no relevance to the colour itself.

He had noticed a number of changes to the house since he had last visited on even less amiable terms. He assumed it was from the attack by Powell, and he certainly wasn't going to bring that up. She was difficult enough to deal with in strange environments- her own ground would be beyond stupid.

Taking a seat in the couch opposite Lara's, Alex waited for her as she picked up a folder on the table that was neatly stacked with books and papers, all pertaining to whatever trip Lara intended. She had prepared ahead, as per usual. Locating a page, she handed the folder across to Alex and allowed him to peruse at his leisure.

Lara took the time to carefully take in Alex's appearance. He had definitely lost weight, and his inherent colour was gone, leaving him looking pallid and wan. The circles under his eyes were even more pronounced due to the added lighting of the room. At least he was clean shaven.

Lara frowned as Alex paled perceptibly further. He had been flicking through a number of the photos she had included in the file, and was now focused on one. His gaze became introverted, and his hand shook slightly.

"Are you alright?" When she earned no response, Lara got up and walked behind Alex, peering over his shoulder to see what it was that had affected him so.

It was a photo of a Codex, one Lara had never heard of before. Her research had brought up nothing further on it, and she had been hoping Alex could shed some light on the topic.

Placing her hand on Alex's shoulder. She squeezed slightly, drawing him back down to earth.

Alex flinched as he became aware of where he was, of the unaccustomed warmth on his shoulder. Blinking like he had just been dazzled by a bright light, Alex worked on controlling his breathing before attempting to answer Lara's questioning stare. Her nearness was not helping.

Shifting so that their bodies weren't touching quite so much, Alex cleared his throat.

"Sorry about that."

"What was 'that' exactly?" She removed her hand from his shoulder, and resumed her seat, crossing her legs. All the better to appraise you with, my dear.

"Where did you get this?" Ignoring her question, Alex rifled through the rest of the folder, but found nothing else on the Codex.

"A contact of mine. It is why I enlisted your help." Alex glanced up at her in the middle of his search. Picking up another folder, Lara resumed: "This Codex was only rumoured to be in existence before recent archaeological evidence proved otherwise. This Codex supposedly holds the key to the Mayan hieroglyphics. Now, I know similar items have been searched for before, and all turned out to be fruitless. This, however, seems to have more evidence than usual backing it up, and I am inclined to believe it is indeed the real thing."

As it would to anyone with his passion for the Maya, Alex was left breathless and distinctly light-headed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, but the picture itself was more than troubling.

"Unfortunately, the area it is supposed to be in will shortly be torn down for industry and agriculture. We have something less than a fortnight to locate and retrieve this artefact, which by no means is guaranteed to be easily located."

As the initial shock started to wear off, a sliver of Alex's audacity began to resurface.

"Where would the fun be if it was hidden in plain sight?"

**Author's Note:** I wonder if anyone gets the significance of the title? Think astronomy, think…. Thanks, again, for reading.

Kai.


End file.
